Realignment
by Tlachtga
Summary: He had once thrown to sea a message in a bottle - a piece of his heart, a call to his friends, full to spilling with a desperate wish. A wish that they would one day meet again. As the sands of time begin to move, Eunwol beholds a startling discovery, and a chance to rebuild what was lost. [Heroes]
1. Sands of Time

**A/N: Playing through Eunwol's story moved me so much my hands moved to write this of their own accord. Reviews would be much appreciated!**

* * *

Laughing. There's the sound of laughter. It tickles his ear, pleasant and light, free of the weight of the world, and _warm_ , like the gentle caress of sunlight. The voices mingle together, indecipherable, but if he struggled just a little, he could make out the tinkling melody of a young female, or the rich tenor of a confident man. They were inexplicably familiar, in a way that stirred his heart to wistfulness and contentment in equal measure. It was as though he had wished to capture starlight as it pooled hope in his hands and scattered dreams into the night.

His chest ached.

They were close. If he were to reach out a hand, surely there would be the brush of skin, the teasing of hair loose in the wind. He willed himself to move, to get closer. _I'm here_ , he wanted to say, _I'm here too_. But a heaviness pressed upon his limbs. _Look at me._

The voices were getting ever so slightly further, and he pressed more strongly, a sudden desperation alight in his veins. He couldn't lose them, his light. _Wait for me, please,_ the words were stuck in his throat, _don't leave me behind._

 _Don't leave me alone-!_

But in the moment that followed he realised that the voices had fallen silent. A rush of relief. Perhaps they'd noticed and turned to wait for him? There was sensation in his limbs, now, and he leapt to his feet. Forward, forward, forward to join them.

Then he opened his eyes to meet blue orbs, large and fearful, and in his ears was not the sound of recognition.

The voice bled into him a deep cold.

 _"_ _Who are you?"_

Like starlight scattering through the night.

* * *

Eunwol started awake, heart hammering in his chest and drenched in cold sweat. Again. Again the nightmarish dream that had plagued him for months, ceaseless in torment. Again the unbearable knot at the back of his throat, a longing so strong it pained, and tears hot behind his eyelids. As he gritted his teeth and brought a hand up to steel himself, the cold bite of stone on his fingertips reminded him that he was alone, alone, again-

Alone, in a place where the wind did not reach.

He sighed shakily. Even through countless iterations of the same dream, it never failed to seize him with how startlingly _real_ it all felt, as though with each rejection, the wound on his heart were cut open anew. It _hurt_. It hurt so much he could barely breathe, but like a phantom it would take him and let go, the sharp pain ebbing away to the settling of cold apathy.

Just today, it took a few more moments than usual before he regained his usual self-control. It tightened into his limbs and forced the tears back. Blinking his eyes against the rays of the morning sun, he took a glance about his surroundings. The same pillars lined the hallway, the same cracks running the length of the walls. He was still huddled up between two rather large chunks of runic stone. Distantly, he could detect imperceptible shifts in the space as wandering spirits drifted about aimlessly, occasionally brushing against rock or stirring up wisps of sand. Like Eunwol as he was now, those of the Temple of Time existed separately from the living beings of the Maple World, never to be in their time, in their space, in their hearts. Forever present and yet absent, everywhere and, as a result, nowhere. It was here in this otherworldly space that Eunwol had decided to settle, an existence that bordered on nonexistence, a contradictory being in and on itself.

He had already accepted his fate. To be forgotten by the world was a cruel thing, but as much as it broke him, he could never bring himself to regret his decision. Again and again, in the grand hall of the Temple of Time, Eunwol revisited the scene in his mind; and again and again, he came inevitably to the same conclusion, a hollow feeling in his heart: It had been the right choice. _This_ was the right choice. For all the pain of one man, the world was freed from darkness and forged a future.

So he didn't regret it.

But he did, perhaps, regret just a little, that he had learnt of happiness once before – in a land of sunlight and laughter – for it made the dark and cold just a little darker, and a little colder, and it lit a traitorous spark of hope in his chest that maybe, _just maybe_ , he would be allowed a single taste of it again.

Here, frozen in the sands of time, the forgotten hero Eunwol dreamt an endless dream.

"Mercedes," the name, bittersweet on his lips, like an anchor, a whisper of all he's ever known. "Aran, Phantom, Luminous…"

Blue eyes, deep pools like the expanse of sky and space before him, shining, twinkling, dancing, laughing, loving-

He choked.

"…Freud…"

In the expanse of darkness beyond the walls he might have imagined a slight shift, a whisper of sorts, though he had long banished the hope for any reply from this god forsaken place. But insistently it persisted, a light, smooth pattering of grains at the edge of his consciousness.

Like the falling of hourglass sand.


	2. Road of Oblivion

**A/N: Sorry the update took so long! School came down hard and I had a lot of content to push through. I didn't manage to throw us all into the thick of things this chapter yet since it got too long too fast, but I promise to get it really going by the next one! Thanks for your patience and all the reviews :) Please keep them coming, and feel free to point out any errors if you spot them!**

* * *

Eunwol was a fighter; a rather good one at that, if his centuries old reputation was to be believed. Unfortunately, even the world's most accomplished few would find the Temple of Time a challenge to explore, much less inhabit, and it was therefore not unlikely a predicament that he found himself in on this particular day.

He cursed, throwing himself to the ground as a wave of red heat rolled over his head, accompanied by a distinct and horrifying sizzling. Only years of disciplined training and first-hand battle experience kept him from twisting around despite the overwhelming urge. Instead, he pressed himself further still into the hard stone, eyes carefully trained on the dark figure in the distance.

A single moment was all he needed.

The flames wavered, a sudden dip in the smothering heat sending a tingle across the surface of his skin – and he was off. The spirits of the temple were never quick to recover after spell-casting. Having discovered this after a ragtag game of chase with an Oblivion Monk, he was determined to make full use of the exploitation, and a smooth Backstep closed the distance in a split-second.

His movements were deftly precise, yet fluid. In a deadly dance of twists and turns and a keen eye and mind guiding his positioning to its rear, he pulled a knuckled fist back, the roar of the land spirit bursting from behind him to meet the red-clad figure. With a horrible shriek, shockwaves tore into its core, ripping the energy inside-out in a momentary burst of blinding white light.

The strangled, otherworldly scream faded into echoes along the corridor, but it was only some moments of quiet later did he finally relax the tension in his frame; old habits die hard.

Eunwol sighed, taking a few heavy steps to lean against a nearby pillar. As he held out a hand to steady himself after the rush of battle, lingering orbs of spiritual energy converged into the fox beads at his belt.

A few days spent doing absolutely nothing to assuage his body's physical needs early on in his isolation had found no major repercussions. Starving to death, it seemed, was impossible in his current state. However, since the same could not be said for the maintenance of his spiritual powers, he kept himself on his toes. Eliminating the foes in close proximity ensured both the sustainability of his form as well as security in his own territory.

The irony of it all did not escape him, of course. Why bother fighting? Why bother at all? The world was dead to his very existence and he was very likely better off wholly gone from it, spared from the constant suffering of his own company. But when it came down to it, he would find himself moving, dodging, fighting, the rush of blood hot in his veins and the pounding of his heart in his ears. And in the haze of battle he would catch a sorrowful whisper, find the ghost of a blue gaze, and embrace the certainty that he was alive and struggling for nothing less than himself.

You don't have a reason to die, either.

Eunwol chuckled humorlessly, thumbing a lock of dark hair. "You're right," murmuring to himself, "I don't."

He couldn't help but wonder, though, if he had a reason to live.

Idly, he remained, unmoving, pondering, trapped in recurring circles of thought. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of the approaching twilight, the darkness encroaching the wide halls, and he knew that staying too long out would be a hazardous prospect, but just a little more he remained, drinking bittersweet longing, before finally pushing off down the corridor.

What time was it? The cycle of days and nights had long been lost to him. He quickened his strides as a cold draft swept by, shifting his grip on the knuckles in hand in anticipation. Spirits were more active at certain times of transitioning light and dark, and it would be dangerous even for Eunwol, one of the heroes of old, to be caught unawares. It was therefore fortunate that he hadn't ventured too far away from the barriers erected around his personal refuge. All he needed was to turn to the right at the next bend and maneuver around a few well-placed obstacles, a feat turned simple after seasoning.

He quickened his pace.

It was evident that something about the temple wasn't right. His sixth sense prickled uncomfortably, sending sharp chills down his spine, accompanied by the frantic buzzing of his companion spirits in the air. Especially unnerving was his awareness of the abrupt silence that had befallen the hall, an occurrence as unnatural as they came even throughout the duration of his long stay, for inhabitants of the temple were generally restless, vengeful, and more prone to react negatively to each other's presence, rendering the habitual soundscape a fitful one.

Eunwol's footsteps slowed gradually, cautiously, and almost impossibly quieted. Never did he once imagine that the usual clanking of wrought iron or the shifting of silk robes on sand could serve to ease his mind in the way it would now. But here he was, tense and anxious, senses careening out in search of the hidden menace around the corner. It stood tenaciously at the edge of his perception, pressing down with a weight that could drop his stomach, and it was all he could do to steel his nerves and ready himself for the fight of his life.

At the end of the hall, where there was only darkness too deep to penetrate, a deep crimson redness spread forth, creeping up the stone walls and blanketing the space in a bloody fog.

Time seemed to crawl to a stop. One second, two seconds, three-

And it went off like a gunshot, barely at the short intake of breath.

Blazingly it surged forward, a massive, colossal figure cloaked in flame, bursting out from the shadow of darkness like a tidal wave unleashed. The ground shook violently from the monstrous shockwaves of its sheer bulk, and Eunwol struggled to maintain his stance, trying valiantly to focus on the rapidly approaching bullet train of a beast, yet rattled and distracted by the screaming cacophonies of distressed spirits erupting all around him. What was once half a mile had closed to less than half that distance before he could blink, and in a rush of wild desperation he called, screamed for them in his mind, commanded them to put a stop to the oncoming threat, any futile resistance available. But the spirits withered in the face of such numbing peril and shrank from it, scattering from its path and the accompanying flood of heat.

Through the spirals of flame he could make out two grand horns curved to a cruel tip, crowning brutish features, a royal mane bleached deathly white, and blood-red eyes that seemed to glow with an unquenchable thirst. It struck him that he recognized this creature, this king of fire, mentioned and lost so long ago in the legends of monks; that he had once witnessed it with his very own eyes, in a time made obsolete to the world of now.

Lyka. Ruler of the Oblivion Road.

And left alone and helpless in the face of such overwhelming adversary, there was only one possible option remaining.

Eunwol turned and ran.

* * *

 _The walls quaked at the deafening roar of the beast, reverberating through the air, through her bones, vibrating out her teeth. She was spiraling midair, leaping circles round the great bull and focused on piercing its hide with wave after wave of magical arrows, spearing bolts that leapt from her twin bows in a cruel, twisted dance. The beast was strong; strong and heavy and slow, and she could wear it down with her lightness and agility. It was just a matter of keeping on the move._

 _But it made it no less tough, for it wore on stamina she could not afford to waste, lest it cripple her in the upcoming showdown with the Black Mage himself. The battle that would decide the fate of the world, and this were a mere prelude, or a prelude to downfall._

 _No. She refused to let that happen._

 _With a cry of her own, she summoned to her aid the prodigious Ancient Spirit. It burst into being beside her, an ephemeral stag, majestic and poised, and as it raised its hooves to the sky her veins flooded with renewed vigor and strength. The beast swung its enormous head; reflexively she flipped backwards in a whirling somersault to avoid its punishing horns. Then, a chance presented itself, for the force of its momentum had forced the dark bull's great head around, an awkward position that left its neck exposed and vulnerable, and an expert bowman would never let such an opportunity go past them. She took aim, keen eyes zooming in on potential weak spots, and let fly._

 _Magical arrows infused with the power of Ishtar struck the beast's ebony hide, lodging into its flesh and sapping its strength with a purifying emerald flare. It roared in agony, staggering under the blows, and she was up in the air again in a heartbeat before it could recover. Her twin bowguns slashed out in wide crescent arcs, tearing into the bull, and following up without pause were the strikes of manifesting elemental knights, raining upon its massive bulk, never giving it the chance to retrace a defensive stance._

 _She had it._

 _The elf queen spun outwards and brought her bows ups, ready to drive home a final blow. Channeling to her surroundings some magic, elongated spears flashed into existence, a rain of swords like the scene of judgment. It spelt the end._

 _Then suddenly and without warning, the very air she breathed ignited._

 _The world ground to a halt. She felt the spark go off, the electrifying sensation of it on her skin, and in that split second of horrifying realization a mind-numbing fear seized her throat that she had made a mistake and that she would die-_

 _And it all exploded into flame._

 _Columns of molten rock erupted from the ground toward her. The fire burned, searing into her skin, her face, her eyes, like liquid acid the scorching agony stabbed into every inch of exposed flesh, and she was screaming and screaming at the pain but none of it could reach her own ears and her body was no longer her own._

 _She couldn't avoid it._

 _"Merce_ des!"

The elven queen's eyes snapped open, and she jerked up with an uncharacteristic wildness in her motion, tinged with a sort of desperation. Her darting gaze eventually settled upon a young boy hovering uncertainly nearby, at his side a dark Onyx Dragon, and before he could react she had bent forward to embrace him in shaky arms, muttering softly.

"Freud, _oh Freud_ …"

Evan was, understandably, quite stunned by way of reaction. Though he was aware of his uncanny resemblance to his predecessor, a fact made known to him by the other Heroes, Mercedes had already been in his acquaintance for quite some manner of weeks now, and should rationally recognize him as his own self.

A little stumped as to what to do, he eventually settled for patting her back awkwardly.

It was a matter of time before she calmed down; but only when he was absolutely sure that the slightest tremble in her frame had left her did he dare to open his mouth to inquire.

"M-Mercedes?" he stammered, a little confused, "This might be kind of weird to say but…I-I'm not Freud." When the elven queen jerked back, though, a surprised look on her face, he quickly supplemented, "I mean, I completely understand! Many of the others have also confused us for each other because we look so alike, or at least I've been told, anyway, and, well, perhaps just now when you had this sort of…attack or something it might have disoriented you and then-"

"Wait," Mercedes interjected, "Attack? What happened?"

Evan scratched his head thoughtfully, "Maybe that might not have been the best term to describe it? You just sort of…collapsed." Scrunching his brows together in discomfort, "But you weren't sleeping or unconscious or anything. It seemed more of like a trance, and you were trashing around, and I tried to wake you from it but it wouldn't work. Then it got really bad for a while, though suddenly you just…came back, all on your own."

She was quiet for a moment, pondering the new details, when finally she raised her eyes to meet Evan's with a soft chuckle. "No, not on my own," she said, "You called for me. Once again, I find myself in the debt of a Dragon Master."

He proceeded to get extremely flustered. Mercedes laughed knowingly, and pushed herself off the grass into a standing position. Precious time had been wasted on her; they should be moving. The Black Mage gave them no room for rest. At her movement, though, Evan turned to worry.

"Mercedes, are you sure you're alright, though? Shouldn't you rest a little more?" he fretted.

"No, I'm alright." She tucked her twin bowguns at her side and took a quick inventory. Ascertaining that all was in order, she waved the young adolescent to her side.

"It was just… the relieving of an old memory."

A wistfulness accompanied the statement, sad and longing, and although she did not elaborate further, Evan was sure that whatever it was was too close to the heart to speak of, and asked no more.

But as they began to make their way through the jungles of Leafre, a lingering apprehension was heavy upon her. A memory it was, but a mere memory would not trigger such enduring responses.

It troubled her.

* * *

 _Another power of the elves, it was said, was the power of premonition._


	3. Dreams of Blue

**A/N: This is way overdue! n(._.)n Well, at least exams are over and I have more free time now! I will try harder to keep writing! As always, please let me know what you think by leaving a review :) It means a lot to me. Thank you for reading~**

* * *

There was a strange flood of lights in disarray above him, glaring in and out of his vision like lens out of focus, and distantly it seemed to piece itself together to form the vague awareness that he was lying with his back on the ground. Odd. He tried to trace his own memories to the present point, but somehow, the information in his head was formless, immaterial – made even more amorphous by a perpetual haziness that had befallen his mental state. It was like wading around aimlessly in a pool, a pool that stretched across all horizons, and he was floating, numb, almost lost.

Eunwol blinked. The stars fizzed out.

Then the pain struck.

* * *

Phantom groaned, bringing up a hand to rub at his temple in an effort to assuage the oncoming headache. He was a master thief, and like any master thief, he prided himself in unyielding patience.

Unfortunately, Luminous being the one exception, had an uncanny ability to push all the wrong (or right) buttons to drive him up the wall.

The mage of Aurora was currently being his usual obstinate self. He sat across the round table with his arms firmly, almost defensively crossed, a slight contemptuousness in the upward tilt of his chin, and a hardened gaze directed at those of the conference. In a very clipped voice he had just sharply interjected the recitation of the council's finalized plans, once again giving no regard to the importance of cooperation in the overall strategic undertaking. To this Phantom found him nothing short of trying.

"Luminous, we've been through this before. For the last time, we are _not_ going to let you operate alone, or anyone else for that matter. The Black Mage has returned, and with his commanders gathering back under his wing we cannot afford to be careless with our own. You of all people should know that."

The man in question darkened; in one eye was a smothering anger, the other a frosted coldness. The strange duality of the effect was almost otherworldly, and like a dark thing his animosity festered amongst them.

"I can handle them on my own."

Phantom's lip twitched.

This wasn't Luminous making a bold claim. This was Luminous being a complete child of things, the Luminous that let his emotions override any reason, and under any other circumstances Phantom might have already snapped at him because this was unacceptable behavior.

The irony of the their respective positions did not escape him. In his peripheral was a Luminous, stern and ramrod straight, chiding a Phantom with a card in hand and a smirk on his face; ghosts of the past. He shook his head to clear the sight. It was how it was, how it should be.

How it wasn't.

In any case, the room was silent at the light mage's declaration. Not one of the leaders dared to speak out against one of the great Heroes, as revered and respected as they were, and Phantom supposed it was quite evident that the task would eventually fall back to him. Aran would not notice the subtle defensiveness of Luminous' stance; the way he folded his arms as if to curl in on himself and block out the world. On the surface he was just being stubborn, perhaps unused to letting others keep check of his movements and activities, but in his vehement refusals Phantom found none of the usual hot anger he was so used to extracting. Instead, it was smothered, subdued, almost afraid.

Luminous was scared.

And so strange and unlike Luminous it were that coming to the revelation, he suddenly looked inexplicably helpless, his left eye forever burning a living contradiction. It was the picture of a man defeated by his own faith.

Phantom sighed.

"Let's stop here for today. I'll deliver up the full summary before tomorrow's noon and I expect preparations for commencement to be done by the end of the week.

"Dismissed."

Luminous stood, and with a terse nod at the other members of the table, turned to leave without another word.

* * *

Eunwol hissed. The numbness of the shock had ebbed away, giving way to a stabbing pain from the black burns and lacerations that ran up his limbs. He had to grapple a little with awareness of his situation, but a quick, desperate surveyance of his surroundings only made the direness more apparent.

As he tried to scramble to his feet, the rough edges of shattered rock he grasped cut into his palms. He didn't have any time. Any moment and the beast would be upon him.

All the while his mind struggled to catch up.

What exactly had happened? He had been fleeing through endless corridors, skidding past corners and crevices and making sure to maintain the precarious distance between them, taking advantage of its low maneuverability. It had worked. His lungs were full to bursting when he finally managed to go full circle in the temple, clambering up and down a few levels through the crumbling floors, but he had made it back into the barrier.

So what exactly-

A deafening roar broke his chain of thought, rattling his head, numbing his mind, and he might have cried out as he buckled. It was coming. He reached out to grab something, anything, to pull himself back up, but his hands felt uncoordinated and his legs weren't his own. They wouldn't support his weight. They couldn't.

He couldn't.

Everything was red, red and hot and burning, and whether that was sweat or blood in his eyes he no longer knew.

Suddenly, it struck him that it was the end of the line.

The blood red fog was enveloping the air, the ground trembling with every hoof-step of the terrible bull, like a knoll to his imminent demise. The cruel horns silhouetted over him.

Then he remembered. Just as he had slipped into his barrier, Lyka had roared, and like the rising of volcanos from the seabed pillars of flame erupted from the ground all around him. He pressed himself to the walls, and unable to react to the besiegement of chaos a wayward block of debris had plummeted upon his skull, knocking him out.

Which led to this.

He wanted to laugh, but he was tired.

For just a second he locked eyes with the towering figure overhead, crimson and deeply corrupted, and allowed himself to wonder about the fate of the world.

Lyka bore down.

* * *

He left the room at a brisk walk, proceeding back to his quarters in the southern wing.

Lania would probably have chided him for his behavior by now. That is, if she were here.

Luminous gritted his teeth.

What exactly was Phantom thinking, approving an operation with Luminous at the fore, with a _team_ , no less. Granted the explorer recruits weren't fresh by any standards, but Luminous was a very literal walking hazard. It was simply asking for trouble. If he didn't even have confidence in controlling his own powers, how could they expect him to protect anyone?

He couldn't even protect Lania.

He curled his fingers into fists at his side to stop the involuntary trembling. They should be cordoning him off from the others. It troubled him when the Alliance relied upon his powers, the _Black Mage's_ powers, a light that could turn corrupt at the snap of a finger and destroy what could not be fixed. Even now the burning in his left eye did not stop – it had a will of its own, and Luminous was beginning to suspect that a strange link to the Black Mage existed within him, _despite him_.

A link that could be exploited against them. And that was a possibility that absolutely terrified him.

So engrossed was Luminous in his mulling that he barely registered the turn in the corner down the southern tower.

"I don't suppose you'll be open to a friendly chat, ol' friend?"

Luminous jumped.

Then he proceeded to trip over his feet and land in a very undignified heap on the floor.

Somehow, he managed to register an obnoxious sniggering, and Luminous, already red and flustered, was suddenly overwhelmed by so complete and utter a mortification that he briefly contemplated never getting up again. Overhead was undeniably the sly façade of the most abominable Master Thief, whom had purposefully, and without warning, decided to burst into existence a mere two feet from Luminous' face.

Bless Aurora.

If Phantom had any mercy in him, he didn't show it, laughing away with no reserve. In fact, Luminous would bet money that he was making even more of a din than necessary so as to simultaneously torture him and attract some wayward passerby to further ruin his reputation.

He pushed himself up and _seethed._

The strange sensation within him twisted.

Phantom seemed to gather himself up in an instant, "Calm down, Luminous." He was strangely still. His hands were raised, and there was a seriousness in his eyes now.

It took moments for Luminous to realize that a blackness was leaking from his left side, a void interspersed with crimson. Without his command it had activated in response to his emotions, and taking on the shape of a single eye it seemed sickeningly eager to consume. Luminous gasped and backed away, forcing down the intense burning, quashing the scorching sensation in his chest.

Only a few agonizing breaths later did he dare to spare another glance at his side. The dark energy was gone, however, and he allowed himself some measure of relief that at least, at least he hadn't hurt anyone this time. But he didn't miss Phantom's scrutinizing gaze, slightly contemplative, almost knowing. There was a question in the air that needed addressing.

Luminous let out a defeated breath to oblige.

"The Auguries weren't enough."

So he told him. He told him about the darkness that ate away at the light, the corrosive black that refused to be kept at bay, and the shadows that took him whenever he slipped ever so slightly off the handle. It was like grappling with a formless enemy, and worst of all it was an enemy of the mind. Any negativity fed into its power – anger, misery, sadness. Most times, he could keep it reigned in, but lately the attacks came stronger, in rushes of varying intensity so sudden he had no time to steel himself against it. Like a ticking bomb it rested within him, endangering everyone in the vicinity.

And it frustrated him. His helplessness, as well as to speak of his weakness, his failures, to Phantom, a man he so deeply scorned and, as of late, envied beyond any other.

"I wouldn't expect someone like you to have any idea," Luminous spoke slowly, "what it's like to spend every living moment, wondering if it's the one. Where this… _thing_ inside of you can just take control and destroy everything you've ever cared about," his voice wavered.

The image of a young girl flashed before him, golden strands in the wind, golden strands flecked with deep, deep red. His own hands. Red.

He shook his head to clear it.

"You can't trust me with anyone else, Phantom," he breathed at last. "Nor them with me."

To his credit, Phantom betrayed no surprise at the admission. It struck him that he had been strangely quiet throughout the exchange, and finally as the thoughtful look cleared he locked his gaze with Luminous' own, searching.

"What I want to know, is why."

Trust Phantom to be so uncannily perceptive. Luminous had been deliberately sidestepping the root of the issue, not because he didn't want to talk of it, but because he hadn't yet figured it out himself.

"…I don't know," No, that wasn't right. It was because he _didn't want_ to know.

Phantom's eyes bore into him. He was advancing on him now, a step at a time, "There's something you're not telling me, Luminous."

The mage looked away.

 _The darkness you took from me will consume you._

"Luminous."

"Not now, Phantom."

Something seemed to click, and thief narrowed his eyes. He had glimpsed a sign of weakness. Like a bird of prey he would come down upon him, never letting it out of sight. Luminous turned to realize that he had been subtly backed into a corner, both literally and figuratively, as their slow meandering walk had led to the top of the Southern Tower. The only way out was the spiraling stone staircase from whence they came.

He had half a mind to bail from the situation instantly with a teleportation spell, but it was Phantom he was dealing with – a man who had gotten his namesake from elusiveness, and Luminous would not be so quick as to challenge him to a battle of his own element. Instead, his mind churned to come up with something to satisfy his suspicions.

The raven stared back at him.

Phantom would know if he was lying.

So what could he tell him? The truth? That the Black Mage had some sort of power over him, that he was just his pawn in the grand scheme of things, that he was endangering the livelihood of every one of the Maple Alliance and their very cause by merely existing amongst them?

That it wasn't about controlling his dark powers, but that the darkness controlled _him_?

He looked down. His hands were clenched in fists so tightly they hurt.

Time was up.

"Phantom, I-"

And then it happened. To Phantom, it might have simply looked like the light mage had stumbled forward, but inside Luminous was a sudden excruciating ripping. It felt as though something were being torn out from the very core of his being, primal and raw and _terrifying_ -

Fear? No- it was-

"Luminous," something grabbed onto his shoulder, and he latched onto the grounding sensation like a lifeline, focusing himself. The alien sensation left him as quickly as it had come, like a massive pressure taken away so suddenly he could only gasp and stumble in response. He blinked once, twice, thrice. A familiar face, brows knitted together in concern, swam back into view, and gradually, under his feet the crunch of grit and stone turned rough and real again.

"What was that?"

Luminous allowed himself a shaky breath and a brief moment of silence before shrugging off Phantom's hold.

"We'll continue this later." He rapped the end of his staff on the stone tiles, and a teleportation circle burst out beneath them. Phantom raised an eyebrow, moving as if to back out and utilize his preferred cards, but Luminous already had another hand clenched in one of the bandana's hanging tails and proceeded to unceremoniously tug the thief back in. "Right now, there's something more pressing to attend to."

* * *

In the darkness, the forgotten man waited for a blow that would never come.

He remained in what seemed like a suspension of time, slowed to the tiniest fraction of a second in which he relieved all the memories of his life, a flash of his entire existence at the exact moment of his demise. An enlightenment, if you will, before the void.

But when he eventually realized that the passage of time had exceeded a few ragged breaths worth, the resulting compulsion was strong enough to oblige the prying open of his eyes to investigate the cause of the interruption.

The fire was gone. Instead, a strange, intense glow emanated from an ethereal figure up front. Heat was gradually replaced by a soothing coolness, the air, cleared of smog, was almost sweet, and most of all he came to realize that the light cast around the vicinity was inexplicably palliative. He sighed into the comforting glow as it slowly eased away the pain.

He might have tried to squint his eyes in an effort to discern the figure up front, but his eyelids suddenly felt heavier than ever and his vision made the experience more akin to that of peering through frosted glass. Dimly, he could only make out splotches of colour; rusted brown with a highlight of flame, pale, pale, almost translucent white.

 _Sleep_ , a soft murmur in his head coaxed, and he found himself giving in to the lull, the strong pull down under. His eyelids fluttered. That voice. It was distantly familiar, almost achingly so.

The pull grew, engulfing parts of his consciousness. _Sleep_. Yes, sleep sounded good.

He let go.

For once in a long, long time, Eunwol slept peacefully, dreams tinged the deepest and brightest of ocean blues.


End file.
